


the unremembered gate

by svartalfheimr



Series: interference [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Darth Maul's Spider Legs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disturbing Themes, Dreams, Extremely Dubious Consent, Flashbacks, M/M, Smut, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), prosthetic limbs (more than you might expect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svartalfheimr/pseuds/svartalfheimr
Summary: Rex is almost nine except he’s never been nine—but now he is. It’s a dream, he knows that, because the shape of the land is wrong and weird. He only created it out of flash training and sims; he doesn’t really know what sand is supposed to feel like or if wet dirt smells like that. He is running. He is breathing heavily; his muscles ache and his throat is on fire. He is not running towards something—he isrunning awayfrom something. He doesn’t know what it is; all he knows is that he is too slow and whatever It is is closing in on him.--Rex goes on a trip down Memory Lane, revisiting memories that aren't his own. It's weird, until it isn't.
Relationships: Alpha-17 & ARC-77 | Fordo, Alpha-17/Darth Maul, Darth Maul/CT-7567 | Rex
Series: interference [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164770
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: Bushels for Apples, Rexconditioned





	the unremembered gate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAceApples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/gifts).
  * Inspired by [while the light fails](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436078) by [svartalfheimr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/svartalfheimr/pseuds/svartalfheimr). 



> HELLO APPLES, IT'S BEEN 16 DAYS BUT HERE BE THE FORBIDDEN LEGGIES
> 
> This was supposed to be a short pwp because the cupid exchange was SFW and I had 1K of horny. This is absolutely not a pwp,,,,,it's a direct sequel to 'while the light fails' and may not make much sense if you haven't read it first tbh
> 
> I'm adding additional warnings in the end notes because there's some disturbing stuff in here haha 🙈
> 
> (the leggies refer to maul's spider legs. and. if you were wondering. yes. some of the smut is with spider!maul. I blame the maulrex circus)

  
  


Do you understand what he means to us?

There is a fire nearby; Rex is underground. He cannot move but he doesn’t want to; he observes without seeing, as if revisiting a memory rather than discovering the landscape of a dream. It’s raining. He can hear water trickle in thick droplets; the sounds echo around him and fight with the spluttering fire. It smells foul. Like there’s a dead animal that’s been here for a couple of days, rotting right next to the heat. 

Do you understand how important he is?

Rex is almost nine except he’s never been nine—but now he is. It’s a dream, he knows that, because the shape of the land is wrong and weird. He only created it out of flash training and sims; he doesn’t really know what sand is supposed to feel like or if wet dirt smells like that. He is running. He is breathing heavily; his muscles ache and his throat is on fire. He is not running towards something—he is _running away_ from something. He doesn’t know what it is; all he knows is that he is too slow and whatever It is is closing in on him. 

Sand is swallowing his every step and the rain falling on his face almost blinds him. He may not know what sand tastes like but he knows rain is bitter on his lips. There’s nothing around—just sand and sand and sand and sand and patches of wet dirt that he doesn’t see until it is too late. His bare feet are caught in and when he takes another step the sand clings to him. It’s added weight, shouldn’t be so heavy, but it’s heavier than any shell he ever put on. It forms chains around him, like the ones embracing his waist when they throw him in the water and tell him to fight against pressure and density. It feels like the first time it happened and he almost drowned; Seven-Seven was revived while he didn’t need to because he knows resistance is futile. 

He trips up on nothing.

He falls and falls and falls and falls and of course he’s plunged deep into freezing waters; he doesn’t scream because he knows it won’t serve him good. When he comes back over the surface he gasps and breathes hot air. He swims to the shore and looks around. The sky is on fire. The air feels harsh in his lungs; it’s crawling all over his insides as if to find crevices and holes to settle in. He wants to throw up except it won’t do him any good. When he’s safe on shore he looks behind him and only sees burning land and dust. There is a puddle of goo under his feet but he’s not wet. He doesn’t feel chased anymore.

There are creatures here. Non-Human but nothing like the trainers and nothing like the species seen in flash. They’re not entirely organic but he doesn’t think they’re not _not_ organic either. He has never seen this land before. He wonders if this is what dreams are supposed to be like: somewhere you don’t know and don’t understand but have to adapt to because you have no choice. He walks around. The creatures observe him and speak among themselves in a language he doesn’t get. He doesn’t try to talk to them. There are burning hills of miscellaneous objects—metals of all kinds, ship parts, dirt, rotting food and bones and things he doesn’t know what to make of. He takes a spear that looks like an electrostaff. It works but not quite right; electricity sputters and threatens to catch him. He keeps it anyway. He keeps walking around. His heart hammers against his rib cage when he sees the hill in front of him. He walks to it without really knowing why except that he needs to go there.

There is a hole in the ground. A foul stench crawls up to tickle his nostrils. He scrunches his nose and decides to climb down anyway. It starts raining. The water burns; he winces when it touches his skin, looks below and decides to jump and hide away from it.

There is a fire nearby; One-Seven is underground. He can hear it but he can’t see it. It’s dark in here. There’s no sound except for the fire and the low hum of a shuddering draft. It’s weird because there’s no wind. He walks around without thinking too much. After a while he sees light. He can hear water trickle in thick droplets; the sounds echo around him and fight with the spluttering fire before him. It smells foul in here. Like there’s a dead animal that’s been here for a couple of days, rotting right next to the heat. 

He can hear it—something is crawling all around him, avoiding the light and closing in on him. He scowls, takes the staff in both hands and waits.

It comes from behind and above: claws of metals as big as his entire body is. He doesn’t think; he turns on the electrostaff and strikes—electricity connects with conductive metal and suddenly the cave lights up as if struck by thunder. The creature shrieks and jumps away; its legs catch onto the crooks and it climbs up, up, up above him. His eyes widen. They’re in the carcass of a ship.

_No! No! No!_ the creature yells, startling him. _Leave!_

It’s sentient, he realizes. And it’s afraid. _Come down here,_ he snaps. _I won’t hurt you._ The creature tries to climb up and away but one of its legs loses its grip and it falls down. He curses and goes to see if it’s injured—as soon as he approaches, it jumps away, blood trickling down its back onto its ribs and it shrinks into a tight ball, shuddering with fear.

_Mercy master mercy master,_ it keeps repeating between sobs, flinching every time his staff crackles. He turns it off and walks closer, bending forward to make himself smaller. He has no idea why he hasn’t tried to kill it yet. He raises his hand and stills when the creature flinches. After a moment he moves again and takes a step forward. From what he can see, it’s injured—not badly but it’s ugly. He shushes him quickly and touches it with his fingertips; it flinches away and hits a shard of metal right next to it.

_Stay still,_ he growls and the creature freezes and falls silent. _You’re only going to hurt yourself more._

Rex gasps. He jumps away and blinks. Where is he? He looks around him. He’s… on Dathomir. And he’s with—

“One?” Maul says. He blinks, tilting his head. “Rex,” he concludes with a nod. When he leans closer, Rex can’t stop the flinch. “What did you see?”

“What does this mean,” he whispers, looking at One-Seven’s hands trembling. “What are you trying to tell me?”

One-Seven grins and replies, I’m showing you what you forgot.

_You need to stop moving,_ he snaps, taking care of the wound. The creature keeps whispering _mercy master mercy master mercy master_ and he doesn’t have the energy to tell it to stop. If the mantra reassures it then he won’t tell it to shut up. Its lair consists of an ancient, completely destroyed ship that protects it from the rain but creates pathways and pathways of junk. He’s been here for an entire day now. He hasn’t dared sleep yet. He wonders if the dream is going to be over once he falls asleep. 

_I am One-Seven,_ he tells it once again. _Are you someone?_

Rex shouts in protest. He drops down on his knees and yells, clenching his head. No. He doesn't want to—he doesn't want to forget. Not again. He doesn't want to—

“You must accept him, captain,” Maul says. He curls on top of his back and his arms slide around his waist, taking Rex's hands in his and suddenly breathing becomes easier. “If you fight, it will only be harder.”

Do you understand what he means to us?

One-Seven has been here for days now. He sleeps curled around the creature because it's been fighting a fever and shivering so hard the legs whine. They're in bad shape; they break and lose parts everywhere. He thinks he should do something about that. When he looks at them they don't make sense; there's five of them, all sprouting from its waist and going in different directions. From what he can gather, the creature used to be fully organic and it's clear something happened. He doesn't know what–it never responds to his questions and he's starting to think it's been repeating things it heard but actually doesn't understand. 

Do you understand why we stayed?

Night never comes outside; the sky is in constant fire. The sixth time he ventures away to find food that isn't the rotting carcasses of monsters the creature eats, the non-organic people attack him. He kills most of them with his spear and loots the weapons from the dead when the living run away. It's then that the idea comes to mind. He builds himself a shelter above the hole to protect them from the rain and takes the corpses of the non-organic and starts working. Their shells are durable; they hold against the rain and they can be torn and melted. He doesn’t have the right tools but he’s got the training to know how to do without them. 

The creature calls him when he stays away for too long. It shrieks and shouts at the bottom of the hole; it yells about _Jedi Jedi Jedi Jedi_ and One-Seven hopes it didn’t learn that word because it ate one. He climbs down every time to shush it and sometimes the creature attacks him but backs away and submits as soon as he turns on the staff. It’s afraid of lightning, he thinks. 

There are a lot of things that are wrong. First off—what the kark is he doing here? It’s a weird dream. It’s long. It makes much more sense than his usual dreams do. Then there’s the creature. It’s karking dangerous and frankly far from being friendly—but he feels… he can’t stop himself from going there and trying to help it. He has no idea why and it doesn’t make any sense except it does. He goes to see where the non-organic live. There’s a settlement not far from them; they have food he can eat from what he can see, weapons, tools and he needs more of them. He can’t take them all on his own—but if he can lure some of them away… 

“How long did you stay there?” Rex asks. Maul watches him and tilts his head; his hand comes to touch his face and Rex leans into his palm.

“Twelve years, I believe,” he whispers. “But you were with me for almost half of them if I am not mistaken.”

“What?” He blinks. “That’s not possible. I… I was _nine._ That was four years ago—five at best.”

Maul laughs.

Do you understand what he means to us?

With the non-organic, One-Seven creates something new—he gets the idea from the cultures they did in the settlement he wiped out. They grew spiders there, that they kept for extracting poison; it helped them breathe in the dust even during storms. He knows because he adapted one of their suits for himself; now he can wander the land even when it rains and he can climb the hills easily to find what he is looking for. He still has to avoid the big incinerator droids but at least none of the living try to attack them. Unfortunately, it means they also don’t have a lot of food. So he sets traps and lures the curious inside their lair.

Do you understand why we did this?

If he breathes the fumes from the spider venom for too long, he gets paranoid. He starts breathing heavily and imagining things that are not there—one time, Seven-Seven attacks him and tries to blast him down; he has to run away and he trips up on a piece of junk and hits his head. When he comes back to himself, the dust has almost covered his body entirely and he’s two seconds away from being stepped on by an incinerator droid. 

_Stop eating that,_ he snaps as soon as he comes back, taking the meat of a giant spider out of the creature’s mouth. He turns on the staff and snarls when it tries to take it back and attack him. _It’s making us see things,_ he shouts. _It’s messing with our minds._

Finding new sources of food is difficult but One-Seven manages. He gets rid of the rotting carcasses, stops the creature from eating anything that seems to be able to survive the dust outside. When they sleep he curls himself around it and shushes it until it calms down. He comes to find its grating growl soothing. He has to resign himself to the fact that this may not be a dream. Perhaps he didn’t survive the last exercise—or perhaps he’s actually in a sim. It would explain why he’s so adamant on staying with the creature; if his directives are to protect then the sim will push him that way whenever he veers too far away. 

He makes it new legs. He forces it to lie down on the ground and take a look at everything. It’s half organic, that isn’t new, but the way it’s connected to inorganic parts is… It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not like cybernetics and he has no idea what to make of it. _You like to climb everywhere,_ he mumbles while he tries to clean where metal meets flesh. He doesn’t even want to understand where the waste goes. Hang on. Is this why it smells so foul in here even without the carcasses rotting? He straddles its waist and frowns. The creature is whispering constantly and looking everywhere but at him. At least it’s not trying to push him away. It took them a bit of time but it seems it understands One-Seven isn’t trying to harm it. 

He builds something new. He thinks of the spiders and decides it may be the thing the creature needs. He brings his creation to their lair and corners it before it can try to crawl away. _Stop moving,_ he growls once again when it tries to get away. He pushes it violently to the ground and snarls. The creature stares at him and stills. _I’m doing this for_ _you,_ he says. He sits on its stomach and hears the whines behind him but ignores them. The creature shouts and shrieks and sobs when he takes away its legs. He grits his teeth and ignores the sounds. He doesn’t know if it can feel its limbs being destroyed or not. _You’ll climb more easily with them,_ he whispers when he turns on the solder-blaster he took from the non-organic. He gets to work. He ignores the screams and the cries. He wonders why the creature doesn’t try to push him away, why its claws scratch the ground but never him. 

There’s no reason for this to work—there’s nothing to connect anything to flesh and nerves. It’s just metals put together. It’s just like what he got rid of and it doesn’t make any sense. But once it’s almost all connected, the legs begin to shudder. He doesn’t even try to understand how or why. They just do. When he’s done, he throws the solder-blaster away and stops himself from yelling. It’s the first time since he arrived here that nausea hits him. He gets up and glances at the creature’s face. It’s half conscious, breathing slowly and with difficulty. He’s certain it felt everything he just did. He kneels besides it and caresses its face, tracing the markings, and he stays silent because he doesn’t know what to say. 

Its eyes slide to him and it murmurs _Through victory my chains are broken._ It's like a mantra. It says it again, and again, and again, and again—and after a while One-Seven murmurs it as well. He lies down besides it and holds onto its chest, lulled by its grating breathing and whispered words.

The creature is much more balanced in its new form. It takes time to get accustomed to new legs, especially now that there is an additional pair but, as he predicted, climbing everywhere is easier. He looks at it going up the walls and the tunnels and grins. The creature screams less. It still speaks and repeats nonsense but it also looks at him when he calls it. _Come here, spider,_ he says when he brings back food they can both eat. He tuts it when it tries to eat before he can put the meat in the fire. _You’ll get sick if you keep eating like this,_ he says wryly.

_I am hungry,_ it says. _I am hungry. I am hungry I am hungry I am hungry._ One-Seven stills. It repeats other sentences then has conversation on its own but—

It’s the first time what it says makes sense in context.

Rex blinks. He sees Maul again looking at him and he frowns. “Your legs,” he rasps. “I—it’s my fault.”

The Sith averts his gaze. “It was judicious at the time,” he says with a nod. “I can still… I can make cybernetics in a similar fashion. It would not be the same but—” He clears his throat. “It would be more familiar.”

Rex blinks in confusion and One-Seven scowls. “What do you mean,” they ask, already disliking this conversation. Their spider must notice it because he leans away. “No,” they say, taking hold of one of his horns to pull him closer. Maul’s eyes widen and he stills. They glance at the bed and smile. “Go sit there,” they rumble with a grin, knowing they won’t be denied.

Do you understand what he means to us?

The words start to make sense. Not all of them but, sometimes, One-Seven will ask something and get a response. The legs are great and he looks at it crawling all over the carcass of their ship and he thinks this isn’t so bad. He doesn’t really understand the purpose of this sim but since he’s had no directives ever since he must be doing it right. The creature has started to push him towards the space he claimed as their sleeping arrangements when it gets tired; it elbows him or even picks him up and places him there before dropping immediately and curling itself around him protectively. 

Do you understand how it started?

_I am One-Seven,_ he says every day. _Are you someone?_ He never gets any response to this but since he gets some for others, he tries.

_One,_ the creature says one day when he comes back after a hunt. He halts in his steps and stares at it silently. _One,_ it repeats.

“One,” their spider calls once he is on the bed. Rex takes a sharp breath in and blinks. They get up and walk to him silently. One-Seven covers their spider’s mouth with their palm and tuts him. “No more words,” he mutters. Rex’s hand roams from Maul’s neck to his temple, pressing where flesh ends and keratin begins, chuckling in accomplishment when yellow eyes widen. “Lie down for me,” One-Seven orders.

They see rebellion for a single second—their spider’s eyes narrow and he scrunches his nose. How adorable. “I said,” One-Seven whispers softly, “Lie down for me.”

It’s a bit difficult at first to find a rhythm that suits them both. One-Seven wants to bite and claim while Rex wants to discover and map. It still feels… odd, especially for Rex; for a second he feels smothered and gasps, blinking, then One-Seven looks at Maul and grins. 

Do you want to see? Do you want to know why he's ours?

The spider speaks. It calls him when it’s cold or when it’s hungry. _One,_ it says softly first. _One,_ it says again more loudly when he doesn’t respond. _One,_ it growls when he ignores it. He smiles every time. When he looks at it, it stops muttering and blinks for a moment; it doesn’t last for long. After that it shakes its head and goes back to speaking to itself but—the moment’s still there. _One,_ it says every time it curls around him before falling asleep. _One,_ it says every time they wake up and it’s hungry. _One,_ it growls every time he comes back after a while. 

_Are you someone, spider?_ he asks every time before falling asleep.

The spider groans and keeps mumbling. _Mercy is for the weak the chains are broken Jedi Jedi Jedi I ask for mercy master through passion I gain strength Jedi peace is a lie I will find them quickly master revenge revenge rev—_

One-Seven doesn’t know what the Jedi did to it but he is starting to think they’re the reason it’s suffering.

When he truly wakes up from his sim, the first thing One-Seven does is scream. He was in stasis and he doesn’t understand. He asks Seven-Seven once they are alone, _do you remember anything._ The clone glances at him and shakes his head silently. No one remembers anything during their time in stasis. He keeps his mouth shut and tries to fall asleep quickly every time the night cycle hits. It’s only been three months but it feels like he’s been there for longer than that. He doesn’t know if it’s normal. He doesn’t think it is. He keeps his mouth shut because he remembers what happened to O-Two when he started deviating from their baseline. 

When he sleeps he doesn't dream. He never says anything but he looks around his pod and feels anxious now. It used to reassure him—at his most vulnerable he knew at least that no one could sneak up on him. Now it just makes him want to scream. He feels cold and alone and he wants to go back. He doesn't understand why he would make a construct that sophisticated only to throw it away as soon as he woke up.

When they put him back in stasis, he closes his eyes and hopes. When he opens them and sees sand and sand and sand and sand and patches of wet dirt he laughs out loud and runs.

The non-organic are back—as soon as they see him they retreat and leave him be. His eyes narrow. They built another settlement. How long has it been? He tenses and runs, going for the shed and he breathes again when he sees it’s still standing. He looks at the hole and doesn’t think. He climbs down as fast as he can and runs straight to their lair. The fire is still crackling. He sighs in relief. He looks around and frowns. There are a lot of rotting carcasses and he _knows_ some of that meat is foul and makes whoever eats it see things that aren’t here. Where is his staff? He hears something before he sees anything. He looks up. Nothing. The sounds echo around him and he turns around. _Spider?_ he calls. _Is that you?_

No response. He scowls. Where’s his staff? He walks around, rummages through accumulated junk. He can hear the legs but they don’t come near. Where is his staff?

When he hears the shriek, he turns around and is thrown immediately off ground—his back hits something and he grits his teeth. The creature attacks him and he snaps, _You calm down now._

The creature stills. It is breathing heavily and the legs are shaking and shaking and shaking. _One,_ it says, pained. _One. One. One one one one one one on—_

He takes its wrists in hand and pulls it down harshly and closes his eyes when he hears its whine. _I’m here,_ he whispers, his arms curling around it and he holds it tightly, uncaring of its horns. _I’m here,_ he repeats. _I’m here._ The spider cries out and rocks; its entire frame is shaking. One-Seven shushes it until it subdues.

_Gone gone gone,_ it says in an off-key tune. _Gone gone gone and it’s in here the fear it’s in here not alone Jedi fear attracts the weak One is gone it’s in here in here the strong the powerful the weak it’s in here it’s in here it’s i—_

_I am here,_ One-Seven growls. He tightens his hold until the creature falls silent. _I am here._ He repeats it again and again and again. _I am here,_ he whispers when he hears it sob. The spider picks him up and walks them to the space where they sleep. He looks at it and swallows. It’s been torn to shreds. It’s a mess. It’s been a while since someone took care of cleaning that and it shows. How long was he gone? He lets the creature try to make some sort of nest and says nothing when it puts him in the center and looms over him protectively. _Not gone not gone not gone,_ it sings and laughs. _Always remember I am fear always remember I am hunter always remember we will reveal ourselves always remember I am fi—_

_I’m here,_ One-Seven says, placing a hand on its chest. The creature falls abruptly silent and stills. He tugs it closer and can feel it’s torn between lying down on him or staying up. _I’m here,_ he repeats and it does the trick—the creature backs away and lies downs. It pulls him against its chest and growls, curling around him.

_One,_ it mutters. _One._

One-Seven takes its hands in his own and breathes deeply. Eventually he falls asleep.

Time is… different in this land. It’s clear he spends more time here than he actually does in stasis. And it’s also clear a long time passed since he was last here. The first time he tries to leave to get rid of the rotten meat and hunt for food, the creature panics and tries to keep him in their lair; it catches him every time he ventures towards the exit and places him back in the nest. _We need to eat,_ he says annoyed. _We can’t eat that meat. It messes with our heads and you know it._

The creature growls, its limbs shuddering with its rage. _One is here,_ it snarls. _One stays here we are safe in here the fear is in here the strong is here we stay here one stay her—_

_We have to eat,_ he argues. _I need to go back ther—_

_No!_ _No! No! Never!_ it screams and thrashes and tosses junk at the fire in rage. _Never!_

_You calm down now,_ he snaps. The creature growls at him and pushes him back down. One-Seven tenses. He takes it by the throat and whispers, _You are not in charge._ Its eyes widen and it stills. One-Seven bares his teeth and says, _You wait here while I go hunting._

_Yes,_ it whispers, averting its gaze. It nods frantically. _Yes one._ It backs away and shrinks on itself, its legs shuddering. He rises and tilts its chin up to look at its eyes.

_Good,_ he says with a smile, thumb stroking a bony cheek. The creature chases after his hand once he drops it. _I’ll be back._

When he comes out of the hole he frowns. There are weapons and food and scrap parts put in front of their shed like offerings. His eyes narrow and he scowls. One of the non organic walks to him and speaks in their language—they point at the stuff then at him, pushing the food towards him. He walks up and snarls. The non organic flinches and takes a couple of steps back. They are scared. Of him. He walks around the pile and takes a look. _Leave,_ he says. When they don’t, he takes a step forward and growls; they jump and run away.

He examines everything while being aware of his surroundings. The non organic have scattered away. It starts raining. He takes what’s interesting in a makeshift bucket and begins bringing things down in their lair. The creature comes as soon as his feet touch the ground; he has to stop it from taking him back to the nest. _You go wait for me there,_ he says and the creature protests but not for long. He takes a look once again at one thing in particular—one that caught his eye but that he didn’t linger on because he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He puts it on the ground, climbs back up and brings the rest down. The creature has been taking what he put on the ground back to the lair. He huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

When they’re done he goes to the fire and tuts the spider when it tries to have him back in the nest. _Wait,_ he mutters and it steps back and shakes its head, staying silent. He kneels next to the box and opens it. He sees what’s inside and takes a sharp breath in. It really _is_ a medkit. He laughs in joy and looks at the spider. It cocked his head and it’s staring at him but it doesn’t try to interact. He needs to ration what they have but… he glances at its arms and grimaces. It looks like the spider scratched itself to the point of drawing blood when he left. It doesn’t look good. _Come here,_ he whispers. 

As soon as he applies bacta to the wounds the creature falls entirely silent. He is careful and really tries to be gentle so he frowns. He doesn't know if it being nonverbal is a good thing or not. _Does it hurt,_ he whispers. The creature keeps staring at the fire and doesn't say anything. When he glances at its face, he startles when he sees its dilated pupils. He tries something. Once bacta is all but absorbed, he keeps running his fingers up and down its arms, careful to avoid any wounds. After a moment, the creature growls softly. _You're a Zabrak,_ he whispers, the realization dawning on him. What happened to you, he wants to ask but doesn't say. He doesn't want to break the moment and he knows there's a high chance he will if he asks. 

He was planning on bandaging its arms afterwards but now he doesn't want to stop so he keeps stroking its skin and observes it silently. The spider stares at the fire and growls. He knows it's probably supposed to be a purr but it seems it doesn't know how to do it anymore. He swallows and stays silent. He was so focused on everything else it didn’t occur to him the spider could have been something else before—let alone a fully sentient being. He feels stupid all of a sudden; the more he looks at it and the more it becomes obvious. It _used_ to be someone. Now he doesn’t know if it can ever be someone again considering how it’s behaving. It’s strange because he’s never been very interested in other people. He cares about clones because they understand him. He doesn’t care about trainers. He hates Fett with his entire being. If he could kill the Kaminoans, he would. He’ll probably care about the Jedi when the time comes. Before then, he doesn’t give two kriffs about them. The only one he may be attached to is Seven-Seven but he doesn’t even know if Seven-Seven cares about him, himself, or anything for that matter. 

So he cares about Seven-Seven and, undoubtedly, this creature. It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t understand why. He just knows he does. He looks at it and smiles. _Hey,_ he calls. The creature blinks, stops growling and it turns its entire head at him. He lifts his hand to its face and holds still when it flinches. _I won’t hurt you,_ he mutters. He moves slowly and carefully, making sure the creature understands his intent and touches its face with his fingertips. It stares at him but doesn’t back away.

_One,_ it says. He smiles sharply and nods in reply, tracing the markings on its face. Is its skin red or black?

_One-Seven,_ he confirms verbally. _That’s me. Who are you?_

The creature flinches; it crawls back above his head, its legs hooking themselves to every crevice they can find. It’s breathtaking to see how it adapted well to controlling double the number of limbs it supposedly started with. Its arms are going to its horns and it shouts and shrieks, repeating _I have failed master mercy the fear is in here I am fear the fearful the weak ask for mercy master I ask for mercy,_ but at the same time its legs are coordinating together so it can climb up, up, up and stay wherever it wants despite its heavy weight and gravity. He doesn’t think he’d be able to do the same if he were to get four new limbs all of a sudden. 

He builds them a better nest. The spider watches him but doesn’t try to interact or stop him so he guesses it’s okay with his new project. Once he’s done he looks at it with a critical eye. He’s definitely not trained for engineering and it shows. Oh, well. At least he will sleep more comfortably _and_ the creature will actually be able to entirely shelter him without risking to smother him while he’s asleep.

_Wait,_ he has to say when he’s almost done putting everything together. Ever since he started touching the space where they sleep the spider has been growling and snarling; it doesn’t attack him but it’s clear it doesn’t like him changing things around. _Alright,_ he concludes. _You tear things to shred and I swear I’ll—put me down!_ He tries not to yelp when it just picks him up and crawls to one of the tunnels he can’t reach without climbing. It occurs to him that he has no idea where it’s taking him and he really hopes it hasn’t decided now is a good time for them to hunt because he has no weapon and his hands are shaking from exhaustion. He resigns himself to wait and just listens to its ramblings, taking the opportunity to place his ear against its chest. Two hearts. Definitely a Zabrak. The heartbeats are weird; the rhythm isn't always the same. He tries not to think too much about the fact that they’re starting to crawl really deep down those tunnels.

_Warm against cold against fear and alone one,_ it says, dropping him down abruptly. He winces and frowns, looking at it with a scowl. The spider is completely ignoring him, talking to itself and making abrupt gestures, crawling around the walls of what looks like a cave. It’s not big but it’s—well, it’s glowing. There are crystals here and some of those shine. He looks around. There are a _lot_ of them. If he walks a couple of steps, there’s a pool; the water is clear and he can see the bottom. He frowns, gets up and approaches it with confusion.

There’s a crystal at the bottom that shines much more than the others. He looks back at the creature in question but it’s completely ignoring him. _Do you—_ He glances back down. It looks like it’s glowing. He doesn’t know why but before he can think it through, he takes off his clothes and plunges. The water is warm, pleasantly so, and for an instant he almost forgets why he went under in the first place—but the crystal makes a low, humming sound in the water, similar to the spider’s growl and he swims to it. It glows even brighter when he is close enough to touch it. And he does.

He feels it beat like a heart against his fingers.

He backs away abruptly in surprise and the crystal’s glow dims. When he comes closer, it shines brighter. There’s a loud, dull sound behind him; he turns around and shouts, bubbles obstructing his vision. He doesn’t think—he takes the crystal and swims back to the surface. _Get out of the water!_ he yells. The creature is shrieking and yelling, trying to crawl to him, half of its legs already in—he sees how close it walks to the edge and panics. If it falls to the bottom he doesn’t think it can come back to the surface. _Don’t!_ he shouts but the spider doesn’t listen to him, trying to walk closer to him. He pushes himself up and runs to dry ground. _Look! I’m alright! Now get out of there!_

The creature picks him up and immediately leaves the cave. _My clothes!_ he shouts but it doesn’t listen to him, yelling in fear and rage. He tries to have it put him down but it doesn’t listen to him—before he can kick it they’re back to their lair. _My clothes are there,_ he growls but the creature throws him in the nest and snarls, forcing him to stay down. He’s _cold._ He tries to make it understand but it’s still shrieking _No! No! Never!_ and it never listens to him when it does. 

_At least let me get closer to the fire, you karkhead,_ he curses. His teeth start chattering and he growls. _You calm down now,_ he snaps and the creature falls silent. He gets up and crouches besides the fire, looking at the tunnel they went in. He doesn’t even know how to get back there. He sighs in frustration. Now he needs to find clothes. He ignores the spider all the time it takes him to get dry and warmer. He looks at the crystal safely cradled in his hand. It’s not glowing anymore. When he moves it, it whines softly with the air; he doesn’t really know how that’s possible but it does. 

“That was kyber,” Rex mutters, frowning in confusion. He shakes their head and leans away; their spider sits back up and watches them in silence. “That cave—where you brought me. It was full of kyber crystals.”

“I went back after—after,” Maul whispers. He frowns and lifts his hand, calling a lightsaber to his hand. His hand uncurls around the hilt; he presents it to them and taps with his thumb on one end. “It is this one,” he says. “It is part of my staff now.”

It’s Rex who takes it in hand but it’s One-Seven who finds out how to ignite it. It burns red and growls in hunger. They squint. “It feels different.” Their spider tenses. “It feels…” Rex hums. “Like you,” One-Seven concludes.

“Yes,” Maul says. “Do you—” He falls silent. Their eyes slide up to him. 

“What?” One-Seven asks. Their spider scowls. They chuckle and deactivate the staff. Rex shakes their head. “I don’t get it,” he says. “How come it… Why was it glowing?”

Do you understand what he means to us?

_One,_ it calls as One-Seven stares at the crystal. _One one one one one it is safe here in here safe one._ He can hear it approach gingerly, its legs trembling. He can almost taste its apprehension, the fear of rejection. _One,_ it whines. It walks closer and suddenly he feels claws poking at his bare shoulder. _One,_ it calls. _One._ He closes his hand and stares at the fire. After a moment he can tell the spider is done being patient. It growls and snarls and he feels cold metal against his back and feels it curling itself around him. It is stupidly hot so he doesn’t say anything.

Don’t you understand by now?

He never expected to attack an incinerator droid, let alone _naked,_ but he’s incredibly relieved when its operator turns out to be more or less his size. He gets new clothes, tools, and he takes a look at the screen. _Lotho Minor._ Not a familiar name. However, it’s not what makes him blink. He looks at the date and thinks it can’t be true. It has to be wrong. This was… this was four years ago. It doesn’t make any sense.

He doesn’t do the expected. He takes what he can and leaves to run back to their lair. He ignores what he saw and lets the spider pull him back to their nest. _Fear in here one,_ it whispers over and over. _Fear in here it’s in here one._

_Yeah,_ he replies truthfully. The creature holds him tightly and he doesn’t say anything. He listens to its uneven heartbeats and stares at his singing crystal.

After that, the days… stretch. He doesn’t think much about it. There are times when he falls asleep and he is afraid he’ll wake up in a tank. There are times when he wakes up and he almost wants to be in a tank. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here and he doesn’t understand _why_ he’s here. A group of non-organic people comes near them and tries to attack them; the spider kills them quickly and they have food for a while. He takes the opportunity to tinkle with the creature’s legs. He’s started talking to it as if they can have actual conversations. He wonders if he’s going to lose his mind like it did.

He could leave. He could find a way to leave. Find where the incinerator droids go. Find a ship and leave this place. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know why. Every time he thinks about leaving the creature he feels like its own fear echoes through him and he gasps, unable to calm down on his own, feeling like he can breathe only when the spider curls itself around him. He listens to its heartbeats, takes his crystal in his palm and stares at it until he feels like he can breathe easily again. There’s something between him and the spider, some sort of connection that he can't explain—but he doesn’t want to linger too much on it. 

One day he attacks a settlement of non-organic people to steal their food and improve the creature’s legs. He sees his reflection while taking what’s interesting among the corpses and freezes. The blond is longer than his dye. At least he can't get more than a scruff growing so it doesn’t show too much. He looks around. He takes the tools he needs to make what he wants. When he comes back to their lair he lets the spider bring everything close to the fire and he stares at his crystal. He doesn’t know why but he can’t stop himself from looking at it every chance he gets. Every time they fall asleep he keeps it in his hand and listens to the creature's hearts.

He cuts his hair. He knows the blond will still be visible. It enrages him. He doesn’t want to see it. He doesn’t want anyone else to see it. He cuts himself and winces. The creature snatches the blade away from him and throws it in the fire. _No! No! No!_ it shouts and One-Seven blinks. It’s been a while since he heard it like this—these days it mostly mumbles on its own or whines to get his attention. He tries to shush it, tell it it’s alright, it’s just a cut but the spider gets angry and yells in rage. When it becomes violent he gets up and snarls. _Hey,_ he snaps, _you calm down n—_

He touches his throat and cannot breathe. The spider has its hand raised and clenched into a tight fist; it crowds him abruptly and sneers, _You do not hurt yourself, one._

One-Seven blinks. The creature shakes its head then cries out; it clenches its horns and suddenly he’s dropped on the ground and he coughs, able to breathe again. _Mercy is a delusion it is for the weak and I am fear I am mercy master I ask for revenge and Jedi Jedi Jedi I am the shadows waiting for the chains are broken and fear in here it’s what goes on in he—_

_Spider,_ he rasps. It comes immediately to him and lifts him up to its chest, its hold painfully tight around him. _Spider,_ he repeats, thumping at its chest. _Look at me._

It does; it places him in their nest and stares at him, breathing in quick pants that verge on soft growl. It doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to speak. He feels something tighten in his chest and he swallows.

_Who are you,_ he asks in a rough whisper. _Who are you?_

Its eyes look to the side and its blinks rapidly. _Spider,_ it whispers. _I am fear always remember I am fear always remember I am hunter always remember I a—_

_No,_ he cuts short. _Who are you?_ The creature stares at him and blinks. 

_I,_ it says and looks everywhere as if looking for the answer. _I do not remember,_ it whispers, eyes roaming over the insides of ruins. _I do not remember._

One-Seven stares at them struck in horror. He lifts one hand to their face and says _I’m sorry._

_One,_ they whisper. They blink, look down and their eyes glaze. He sees them shriek and whine, hears them mumble and repeats the same fragmented sentences again and he closes his eyes. He touches their chest in question and he swallows when they lift him immediately to bring him to their nest. Every day he tries to make them talk. He gets frustrated easily and the spider sneers at him most of the time or even outright ignores him but he can’t stop himself now. Not… Not now that he’s certain. _Who are you,_ he whispers when they eat. _Who are you,_ he says against their chest when they fall asleep, listening to their heartbeats. _Who are you,_ he asks when he comes back from a hunt. _Who are you,_ he shouts when they get angry and destroy everything around them. 

_No! No! No!_ They yell when he pushes them too much. So he tries something else.

_What happened to you?_

The spider freezes. Their eyes crawl all over their lair and they sob. _He took them,_ they whisper. _He took them he took them he took them! Jedi! He took them!_ He tries to shush them and calm them down but they shout and yell and scream and cry out _he took them! He took them!_

One-Seven doesn’t know what to do so he climbs up the wall and lets himself drop. _No!_ they shout and run to him immediately, stopping his fall. _You do not hurt yourself,_ they sneer, bringing him to their nest and they stare at him and claw at his head. He tries to push their hands away but they keep poking at his head as if trying to grasp his hair and suddenly he understands. _Not like this,_ he tells them; he catches one hand in his own and shows them. _Like this,_ he whispers, flattening their palm on his head and making it stroke him softly. _You see? I don’t have horns. You can’t pull on my hair—won’t feel the same. But you can do this._ He lifts his hand slowly so they can see him hovering near their head. When they don’t flinch he tries to brush between their horns like he did when he took care of their wounds. _You see?_ he mutters. _Like this._

_Like this,_ they repeat and he grins sharply. _Like this,_ he repeats with them over and over again, waiting for them to understand. _Like this._

It becomes a new habit. He shows them how to do simple things—how to tighten bandages around their arms and waist to protect themselves from their claws, how to cook meat and put it out of the fire without burning themselves. When they lie down to sleep he brushes their horns and asks, _Who are you?_ They don’t respond but they pat his head until he holds them tightly and falls asleep. Every time he wakes up he’s afraid to see his reflection in a tank. He never does.

He wakes up in their arms again, and again, and again. He doesn’t want to wake up any other way. When he climbs inside another incinerator droid to get new clothes, he’s not as lucky as he was the first time; he’ll have to make do with what they stole from the non-organic. He looks at the screen and checks for the date. It’s been two years. Somehow he’s not surprised. He wonders if maybe something happened in his tank. He comes back to their lair in a weird mood but he doesn’t want to think too much about it. _One,_ they call. _Is this food?_

_No,_ he tells them. They scowl and crawl away. He snorts. _You only care about me when I bring food, huh?_ He cackles when he hears them growl. They’re low on food, though. And it’s been a while since he saw non-organics around. _Hey,_ he calls. _Will you be alright if I leave for a couple of days?_

Silence. One-Seven tenses. _Spider?_ he calls. Nothing. He gets up and walks around the tunnels. _Spider?_ he shouts. _Where are you?_ Maybe they’re at the source. He curses. He hopes they’re not trying to drink the water from that weird source again—it makes them hallucinate. _Spider!_

He can’t find them. He doesn’t know where they are. He keeps shouting and calling them. No response. When he hears the ground crack behind his foot he stills. He looks down and realizes he can’t see much but it’s unmistakable. The earth is shaking. He curses. He walks away slowly and gingerly. If the tunnel collapses, he won’t survive—if he isn’t crushed by debris he’s going to lack oxygen quickly. He hears the low, rumbling sound beneath him and he knows this isn’t good. He takes another step back and hears the crack.

Time to run.

He’s not fast enough; the ground collapses beneath his feet and he falls, trying to hold onto something but he’s sliding down, down, down and is plunged into water, a chunk of rock hitting him in the shoulder. He shouts silently and his eyes widen when he tastes the water. It’s not water. It’s something else. Thicker—he doesn’t recognize the taste. He blows bubbles to see which way is up or down and tries to swim back to the surface but hits a cave wall. He follows it gingerly and finds a small bubble of air; he breathes in as much as he can, his body remembering apnea training and he goes back under. He can’t see anything; he hits something sharp and swims away only to feel something slithery against his back. He really hopes there’s nothing alive with him in there. He feels air on his hand and kicks his feet to finally come over the surface, taking a deep breath in. He can hear the echoes of the Zabrak howling. _Spider!_ he shouts, trying to climb over something slippery to get out of the water. _Spider!_

Something curls around his calf. He freezes. It feels like whatever touched his back earlier. He tries to hold onto something but everything is slippery around him. _Spider!_ he yells before he gets dragged back into thick water. He tries to get away but whatever it is curls itself around his leg and he feels a long, big tendril slip under his shirt and snake itself around his waist. He feels a sting and flinches. He doesn’t know what it was but… Kriff. His feet feel numb. _Spider,_ he mumbles, gagging when he forgot he’s underwater and swallows some of it. He closes his eyes. Whatever took hold of him is slowly dragging him deeper underwater. There’s a tendril prying his lips open and he swallows more liquid.

He doesn’t really understand what happens after that but suddenly he’s let go and pulled to the surface. He thinks he’s talking. He’s very, very cold. 

_One,_ the spider calls, shaking him. _One? One._ He’s put down and he sighs. He can feel the fire nearby and he recognizes the shape of... He’s in their nest. _One?_ they call, stroking his hair. 

_Cold,_ he whispers, shivering. _I’m cold._ He needs to take off his clothes. His limbs are uncoordinated; he struggles but he’s able to throw his heavy pants away somewhere. He hopes he didn’t just throw them in the fire. _I’m…_ He tries to take his shirt off and huffs in frustration. One of his arms doesn’t want to respond. _I’m cold._

The spider growls. They pick him up and hold him facing the fire. He’s very grateful and would like to thank them but he has trouble making his jaw work. He places a hand on their chest and… something changes. He doesn't know if it's whatever he was stung with or just because he can still feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins but his breath hitches and suddenly he wants to touch their skin a lot more than he usually does. He pulls them closer abruptly and tries to bury his face in their neck, groaning when he feels hot skin against his nose, cheeks and eyelids. He shifts, brushes his lips on the crook of their neck and shivers. _One,_ they call in a small voice. _One?_ He nods emphatically and groans, pulling them even closer, cursing his dormant limbs because right now he just wants their skin against his. _One,_ they repeat. _One._

He can't really explain it. He doesn't know what happened. But he hears the legs move, shivers and shudders singing with the crackles of the fire, and he moans, instinctively grinding on their lap. 

The spider stills. One-Seven gasps when he feels their fingers stroke his hair. _Like this,_ he moans, grinding more frantically. _Like this._ He doesn’t know if it’s because whatever thick liquid he was thrown in is still sticking to his skin or because he can’t really feel much above or below the waist but suddenly rubbing against metal seems like a great idea so he does it, laughing in euphoria. _Like this,_ he repeats. _Like this._ The spider moves. They mimic his movement; their arms hold him more tightly, nails scratching his head softly and they move in rhythm with him, growling constantly in what he knows now is a purr. _Like this,_ he whispers in their neck. His skin feels on fire but he’s cold everywhere the spider isn’t touching him.

_One,_ they say. _One._ He nods slowly, feeling himself getting harder and he pulls them closer. _One?_ They hold him higher and he feels hot skin against his cock and groans, grinding more fervently. He hooks his feet to two of their legs and their shivering vibrations run up his calves, fueling his arousal so he opens his eyes and watches. The spider is holding him up above the ground but it’s sitting in their nest; two of their legs are covering his feet while the others shiver and jerk with each of their thrusts. One-Seven sneaks a hand between them and groans, wrapping it around his cock. He stops his eyes from fluttering shut and kriffs his fist, his teeth lightly catching the spider’s throat. _One,_ they mutter and he moans, feeling the vibrations against his tongue. He pulls himself up to nip at the side of their neck and stares at the legs twitching in rhythm with his moans. _One,_ they growl and he comes abruptly, closing his eyes, hand frantically rubbing his cock until he feels completely boneless. He falls asleep.

When he wakes up he is in a stasis tank. One-Seven screams. He attacks a Kaminoan and gets beaten bloody by the trainers. Seven-Seven doesn’t know what’s good for him because he attacks them right after and he’s beaten bloody right next to him.

_Reason,_ the clone signs when they’re both patched up by Kaminoans. One-Seven averts his gaze. He wants to scream but stays silent.

The first time he falls asleep and wakes up, he almost attacks the first trainer he sees. The second time he falls asleep and wakes up, he almost attacks one of the CTs. The third time he falls asleep and wakes up, Seven-Seven signs _Reason_ and he averts his gaze, denying him a conversation. The thirty-sixth time he falls asleep and wakes up he assaults a trainer. He ends up in the medbay, Seven-Seven right next to him. The Kaminoans frown. They talk in their ugly tongue with no sounds for seconds until one pipes up. _Reason_ the clone signs and One-Seven ignores him. 

_You two with me,_ one the trainers who take care of the CTs says once they’re cleared. He drags them to Nar Shaddaa. _This is your target,_ he says. _You have seventy-four hours._

It takes them sixty-three hours. Seven-Seven stays silent through the entire time. One-Seven fills the unending blank with mindless chatter. He makes no mention of the last years. He wants to kill some of the natborns to know if they taste like the non-organic. His throat feels tight and his fist shakes. 

The fifty-second time he falls asleep, he wakes up to _One?_

He opens his eyes and gasps. He’s in—he’s in their lair. In their nest. The crystal is right next to him. The spider is staring at him as if they cannot believe he’s here. _One?_ He lifts his arms and beckons them over, closing his eyes when he feels their skin against his own, holding them tightly. _Where,_ they growl. He keeps holding them, uncaring of their trembling frame and how his own body echoes them. He doesn’t say anything.

When he wakes up in his pod, he screams. He gets out and gets tranqed as soon as his feet touch the ground. He wakes up in the medbay to the eyes of Fett. He wants to beat him bloody. He knows he won’t survive that encounter.

_I will be gone for a while,_ Fett says. _If you deviate from baseline when I’m back, I will kill you._

One-Seven stares straight ahead and replies, _Yes, sir._

He trains with the other clones and ignores their questioning glances. He ignores everything he can get away with. Seven-Seven corners him in the freshers and signs, _Reason._ When he tries to avert his gaze the clone pushes his face against the wall and holds his jaw tightly. _Reason,_ he signs again.

_Go kriff yourself, mutie,_ he spits. Seven-Seven stays silent but his eyes glance up pointedly. He smiles viciously and backs away, spitting on the ground.

When he falls asleep, he wakes up to _One?_

He raises his arms but doesn’t need to beckon them. He holds them staring at his crystal. He takes a look at their lair afterwards, memorizes everything, wants to know how much time will pass before he comes back. He wants to think there’s no doubt he will.

He wakes up in his pod and doesn’t scream. During training, Seven-Seven doesn’t try to talk to him.

When he falls asleep, he wakes up to _One._

He stands up and walks to them, holds them tightly and whispers in their ear, _I’m here._ He takes a look around. _I wasn’t gone for long, was I?_ The spider growls softly, rubbing their chin on his shoulder. They don’t say anything. _Talk to me,_ he prods. 

_You leave,_ they mutter. _Why?_

He swallows heavily and frowns, hands clutching at them. _I don’t know,_ he mutters. He looks at their provisions and his jaw clenches. There’s not much left. He doesn’t have hope they will try to hunt only what’s good meat. _I’m going to look for food,_ he tells them. They snarl and lift him up, crawling up the walls. _Let me down,_ he warns. They don’t listen. _We need food. Let me down._

_No!_ they snarl. _No! No! You do not leave!_

_Let me down,_ he growls. They don’t listen. He takes hold of one of their horns and pulls their ear sharply against his lips and says, _You let me down now._ They hiss but still climb back down. They don’t let go of him. _Come on,_ he says softly. _Let me down._ They do reluctantly. They follow him when he climbs up. He’s just hoping he won’t wake up before he comes back.

He wakes up before he can come back.

Rex shakes his head. “Why do I need to see all that?” he asks roughly. He doesn’t want to. He feels raw as if all of this just happened to him—he doesn’t want that. He looks at Maul in confusion and asks, “How can you still want me?”

Their spider’s eyes look down. He is thinking, looking at his question from every angle. “You are… indissociable. And I remember you as well,” he says. “I remember the jungle. I remember Geonosis and I remember you trying to survive.” He looks at them and whispers, “I remember the years we spent together. I remember you putting the pieces of my scattered mind back together while nothing compelled you to.” He leans closer, brushes his lips against their jaw and softly says, “I remember everything and regret nothing.”

Do you understand what he means to us?

He trains younger clones. Shapes them into better soldiers. One of them is very promising. He focuses a bit more on him than on the others. They all know it. They don’t try to compete. This one really is different.

During the day, he teaches them to hunt, build, lead and kill. At night, he hunts, builds, listens and kills. _You change,_ the spider tells him one day. _So do you,_ he replies with a stroke of his fingers, tracing the markings on their back. _Are you someone?_ The spider shakes their head. _He does not remember,_ they say, getting anxious. One-Seven shushes them quickly. _Who doesn’t remember?_ he asks. The spider looks at him and says, _I do not remember._ One-Seven smiles. He strokes his horns and whispers, _You’re starting to._

Fett dies. When they learn the news, One-Seven looks at Seven-Seven and they don’t need to smile to share their glee. They’re still high with adrenaline, muscles shaking with exhaustion, mind and body hungry and full of energy. Six-Eight died right in front of him. He never liked him anyway. On the ship he takes off his armor and touches sand with bare fingers. He licks his skin to taste it. Doesn’t taste right. Doesn’t taste like the red dust. He sees Seven-Seven mimic him and cackles when he grimaces.

They call him ‘Alpha’. He doesn’t care for it. _And you? What is your name?_ Kenobi asks. Seven-Seven is staring at the wall behind the Jedi. One-Seven knows he was hoping he wouldn’t need to make conversation. Coruscant is dirty. Neither of them likes it. On the wall, there are drawings and markings. _Go Fondor,_ one of them says. _Kriff Fondor,_ another replies. Some of them make sense. Others don’t. Natborns can’t all write well—spelling is variable.

_Fordo,_ Seven-Seven says. _I like Fordo_ is written on the wall. He doesn’t say anything else.

He tells his CCs to choose names. Cody is the one he memorizes first. They all know it. They don’t try to compete. Cody really is different. 

_Alpha,_ Skywalker whispers when he kriffs him. He doesn’t really care for it. He doesn’t really care about any of it. _Alpha,_ the Zeltron says when he kisses her. He doesn’t like it. He tries with her brother and doesn’t like it either. _Do you want to play, Alpha?_ the Togruta asks, her purple eyes devouring him. He lets her. He leaves her place before falling asleep. He doesn’t want to stay with her. _Reason,_ Fordo signs when he comes back. One-Seven averts his gaze. He doesn’t like being on leave. He doesn’t like Coruscant. _Alpha,_ Skywalker moans when he holds him up against the wall. He doesn’t really know how to pass time it seems. _Reason,_ Fordo signs when he comes back. _Danger Question._ One-Seven pushes him against the wall and kisses him. Fordo doesn’t move, doesn't reply. He just waits. One-Seven takes a step back and wants to punch him. _Reason,_ Fordo signs. _Go kark yourself,_ he responds in a growl. He storms off. His wrist is grabbed and he’s cornered in less than a second.

_Skywalker,_ Fordo whispers. One-Seven’s eyes narrow but he stays silent. Fordo swallows, nods silently, lets go of him and walks away.

Cody is very good. Cody is the best. He assigns him to Kenobi. He has no doubt Cody will outrank him sooner rather than later. And he knows Cody knows it too. They all know it. They don’t try to compete. Cody really is different.

_Do I scare you?_ the spider whispers. One-Seven shakes his head. It’s not that. It’s… much more complicated than that. He hears the legs shaking and grating on the ground and closes his eyes. It’s been more difficult lately. It’s the Jedi and the natborns, he thinks—it’s seeing and experiencing variations. When he puts on his armor, the blacks feel too tight. He knows he shouldn’t but… When he sees the spider like this he feels his spine tingling and he tries not to look at his fingers. Or his legs. Or anything, really. It’s karking embarrassing how difficult it’s become to hide the fact that he wants to see how he could extract sounds from the spider. He heard him growl and yell and snarl and laugh but now—now he wants more. He wants to hear his breath hitch and morph into a whine; he wants to see if he can make him moan and writhe like he can with the others.

_No,_ One-Seven replies when silence reigns for too long. 

_One,_ the spider calls. A bony finger brushes his nape and he can’t stop the groan from coming out. 

_Do it again,_ he growls.

Rex flinches. His gaze settles on Maul and—he’s all… _wrong,_ somehow. He looks at the top of his head and sees the small, sharp edges of his horns, brushes a finger around one and blinks. Maul doesn’t move. He lets him explore, discover the differences through touch.

“I missed you,” Rex whispers and knows it’s true even though it’s not. He still feels torn between being whole and being split; he wonders if they will always struggle or if it simply requires time. One-Seven laughs with his mouth closed; they pull Maul up against them. His back arches off so they can sneak their arm to have him in a tight hold right where flesh kisses durasteel. And they say, “I want to play.”

Their spider shudders–there is no sound, a muted motion that doesn't shiver and whine–and Rex frowns but One-Seven closes their eyes and licks Maul’s skin hungrily. “I want to play,” they repeat.

But what is ‘play’?

The spider breathes heavily, limbs shuddering with each stroke of One-Seven’s fingers along his spine. He is quick to shush him, marveling at the instant reaction; the spider slows his breathing forcefully and tries to stay still. _That’s it,_ One-Seven whispers against his nape, nipping his skin in a flash of teeth. He starts grinding against him and groans. The spider lets out a small moan in question so he breathes, _Stay nice for me._

_One,_ the spider calls and there is fear and terror and confusion and misunderstanding and trust and curiosity; the legs shudder and cackle and whisper with his motionless flesh while One-Seven moans. 

_You don't want to play?_ he asks the spider with a heated whisper in his ear. His hand slides up and down cold flesh, feeling the bumps and the scars and the bones, the shivers and quick breaths and the muted, rasping quality of a choked purr. 

_Play,_ the spider repeats, mind watching the word from every angle, twisting and tweaking and disassembling it until it can make sense. It's obvious the spider doesn't get it but One-Seven is hungry. The meat they roasted was good. New but good.

_It's going to feel good,_ he rumbles before biting his earlobe and giggling giddily at the yelp he receives. There was a time when he would avoid thoughts. It was strange and frustrating; being here meant escaping and, most importantly, feeling safe. But when he started getting bothered by the fact that the spider became… _different_ in the way he saw him, things changed. One-Seven likes to see things simply—on one side there's everything that can be to your advantage. On the other there's everything you can discard. The spider is neither.

_One,_ he hears the spider gasp. The legs are trembling and shuddering, painting shadows on the wall that dance and flirt with the dying fire. One-Seven smiles, takes his chin in hand so he can decide how he wants him and bites the spider’s bottom lip sharply, quickly stealing his hand to lick it.

_It’s going to feel so good,_ he tells him, grinding frantically against his body, mind muddled by urges and wants. _Don’t you want to feel good?_

Rex blinks while One-Seven smirks. He sits back on top of their spider and covers his mouth, kissing the back of their hand over it and they say, “no talking. I want to play.” Maul’s breath hitches. He glances down at himself and frowns. One-Seven blinks. “What is it?” they ask. They want to play. Why is he not moving? Rex takes their hand off his mouth and observes him silently. Their spider stays still but it's obvious he's stopping himself from talking. “It's alright,” they whisper. “We're all safe now.” Maul’s face expresses anguish. Rex blinks. “It’s alright,” they repeat. But that's it.

_One,_ the spider gasps, breathing in quick pants that growl softly; his body begins rocking in rhythm with his breathing, arms curling tightly around himself like hungry snakes. He sobs and stares at the fire while One-Seven shushes him, trying to pry open the vicious hold that stops him from tasting skin. 

_Let's play,_ he suggests while forcing his arms to unlock, kissing trembling flesh tenderly. _It's going to feel so good._ The spider whines and growls, breathing heavily but he lets his arms drop down and the legs shudders when One-Seven caresses his skin. It's cold and shivering and the ribs make bumps and the scars give texture. _We’re going to play,_ he tells the spider with a giddy smile.  
  


Rex flinches. “What did you do,” he exclaims in horror. One-Seven scowls.

Do you understand what he means to us?

_One,_ the spider whines while he wraps his hand around his cock. One-Seven moans in his ear, kriffing his fist and stroking his horns in rhythm with his thrusts. He breathes heavily and curses. _One?_ the spider asks. _You’re being good,_ he replies with a groan. _You’re being so good._ He looks at the spider's legs and sees them buck and twitch. He laughs in euphoria. _You’re so, so good for me,_ he says on his skin, nipping the flesh around one of his horns. The spider growls and he starts pumping One-Seven’s cock on his own, squeezing it until he hears it moan. _One,_ he whispers harshly, pulling him flush against his chest.

Don’t you see it by now?

  
_Like this,_ One-Seven pants, thrusting in the spider’s fist with abandon. _Yeah, just like this._ When he feels him twist and play with the head of his cock he sobs. _Look at me,_ he growls. The spider does, breathing heavily. One-Seven glances at his legs, sees how they shudder and jerk randomly and decides to brush one. The spider gasps. He begins moaning in rhythm with his strokes. One-Seven grins. _You’re mine,_ he tells his spider then crashes their mouths together, the urge to devour him overwhelming. He comes growling inside his spider’s mouth, hand clawing possessively at the back of his head. _You are mine,_ he repeats when he hears him whine.

Rex glances at Maul’s legs and his eyes widen. He lifts one hand and brushes his thigh softly. “Do you—” He falls silent when he sees how their spider stiffen. “You don’t,” he whispers.

Maul averts his gaze.

“Hey,” One-Seven snaps. He takes his jaw between his fingers and looks at his face, following the markings. How gorgeous they are with a layer of fat under them. He pulls Maul's chin closer and licks his jaw with a satisfied groan. “You are mine,” they whisper before kissing him hungrily. 

_Are you someone?_ he asks his spider when they lie in their nest. He looks at golden eyes looking around in search for an answer, at wobbling lips and he shushes him quickly. _You are mine,_ he tells him, brushing his cheek with his fingertips.

When One-Seven wakes up, he can still feel his spider’s lips against his saying _yours._

He landed on Coruscant with Kenobi, Skywalker and Cody. He goes to see Fordo. _Commander Alpha,_ Fordo says to greet him. One-Seven halts in his steps. _Need something, sir?_ He stares at the clone and doesn’t say anything. _Sir?_ Fordo asks, frowning. The clone tilts his head and his eyes narrow.

_It’s alright, sir,_ one of the CCs in red says. _We’re on it._ Fordo blinks. He looks at the CC and smiles.

_Thank you, Thire,_ he mutters. His eyes slide back to One-Seven and he says, _Can I help you with something, commander?_

One-Seven leaves without a word. He puts on his helmet when he’s in a public ‘fresher and screams. He allows himself ten seconds then leaves. _Sir,_ the CC calls. He stops but doesn’t turn around. _Did you need something from us? The Commander is busy but if I can be of an—_

_Get the kark out of my sight,_ he warns. The CC stiffens—then he swallows and shakes his head minutely. One-Seven wants to push his head through the wall. He wants to kill every natborn in the vicinity. He wants him back. He doesn’t want whatever _that thing_ i—

_Don’t do this,_ the CC whispers. It doesn’t sound like a threat. One-Seven still takes it that way. He takes him by the throat, takes off his helmet and bares his teeth.

_The kark you did to him,_ he growls. He’s not… He’s not _himself_ anymore. He grips his throat more tightly and sneers, _If you think I’m going t—_

_Yes, sir, you are,_ the CC whispers, fear evident in his voice, slowly prying his hand off him. _Otherwise you won’t recognize him anymore either._

One-Seven pushes him against the wall and smiles viciously. _Oh yeah? And who’s going to give the order? You think the Kaminoans can kriff around like they used to do before the Jedi showed up? Things changed, Thire._

The CC’s mouth twitches. He swallows heavily and mutters, _I know._ He huffs a laugh that doesn’t sound happy at all. He takes a sharp breath and bites his lower lip. He glances around quickly and whispers, _Who do you think would be bold enough to do this to your favorite?_

One-Seven lets go of him abruptly and blinks. He puts his helmet back on and leaves. He goes to the first cantina that will accept him, drinks as much as he can, goes back to the barracks and passes out as soon as he falls on his bunk.

_One?_ _One. One? One?_ his spider shakes him but he can’t make himself move. _One. One?_ He yells. His spider holds him abruptly, brings him to their nest and he shouts. He doesn’t know for how long.

“No,” Rex says. He gets up and shakes his head. “No. _No._ No.” One-Seven tries to come forward but Rex growls, “No.” He takes a deep breath. Tries to. He can’t. He gasps and clenches his fists, shaking his head in refusal. “No.”

“Rex?” Maul says with a frown. He sits up and his eyes narrow. “What did you see?”

Do you understand what he means to us?

Rex refuses to acknowledge what he saw. He goes back to the bed, straddles their spider’s waist and kisses him hungrily. He takes his hands in his own and pins them to the bed and grinds on his lap, biting his bottom lip. Maul sighs in his mouth and his hips begin rocking against him softly. Their spider groans and flips them over abruptly, stealing their breath away. They see him grin proudly and can’t stop themselves from smiling.

Do you understand why we need him?

Maul kisses their jaw, trails lower and nips their neck. He takes off their clothes quickly yet smoothly; before they can comprehend what happened, they are naked and examined under his hungry gaze. He leans back down and brushes their chest with his lips, takes a nipple in his mouth and licks it without warning, eliciting a yelp. “Like this?” he asks cheekily and One-Seven laughs openly.

“Like this,” they reply, torn between closing their eyes to focus on other senses and staring at Maul slowly going lower, lower and lower.

Their spider takes the head of their cock between his lips and gives a tentative lick, the tip of his tongue swirling around it, and they curse. Their hand goes to hold the back of his head instinctively and One-Seven bucks, growling when he sees their spider’s eyes widen and their cock pushing in, forcing him to open his mouth more widely. Maul lets out a surprised moan and his tongue strokes the underside of their cock; his head tries to move away but One-Seven keeps him down and says roughly, “like this. Be good.”

Their spider looks up and swallows around them. He relaxes his jaw and hums in compliance. Rex shivers. He stretches their legs around Maul, tries to ask silently what he wants, hoping their spider will catch what he implies. One-Seven releases him from their death grip when he tries to talk. His lips stay stretched thin around their cock but he lifts one hand, takes off his glove and begins to caress their inner thigh. When he slides closer to where Rex wants him, he takes more of them inside his mouth, teases their balls with his thumb then brushes their entrance with a finger. 

Rex covers their mouth to stop the wanton moan. Maul's eyes narrow. One-Seven laughs, thrusting once just to see him twitch. “You sure you can handle us both, spider?” he taunts once Rex lets their hand drop back on the bed. They see his frown, can imagine his scowl if he weren't sucking their cock with tiny purrs they're sure he doesn't notice, and cackle. 

Maul raises one hand and growls, catching a vial in mid flight. 

“Show off,” One-Seven coos with a playful thrust, making him gag. Their spider’s eyes close for an instant, shiver racking through his spine and they smile. “Like this?” Maul nods frantically, breathing heavily through his nose. One-Seven smiles. “Get to work, then.”

Their eyes flutter shut when Rex feels fingers play with their entrance; they take a deep breath in anticipation and Rex bites their bottom lip. Maul swallows around them and enters them with one finger, leading Rex to moan softly and their abdomen clench. One-Seven grins, hand clenching around Maul’s head to give him their approval. 

They get a good rhythm going; Rex kriffs themselves on Maul's fingers with slow, sensuous roll of their hips that sometimes get disrupted by sharp thrusts from One-Seven who pushes their spider harshly down their cock so he gags. They kriff his mouth brutally to see his legs twitch and thrash until he moans loudly and his eyes roll back. Maul's fingers crook when he does, leading Rex to groan and claws at the sheets with the hand that isn't keeping their spider down. Whenever they can feel his lips brush their pelvis One-Seven growls in satisfaction. 

Later they're going to get Maul on his knees to kriff him good and proper; One-Seven wants to have him while standing up so they can look down at him and sees tears prickle his eyes when they use him like they would a noname in a cantina. Rex gasps at the picture painted in their mind; they clench around Maul’s fingers and Rex blurts out, “we need to get you a cock.”

Their spider stills. One-Seven pulls him off them when they can sense he wants to speak. 

“A… cock,” he says in a rasp, proceeding to make them smile smugly. They got just what he needs to shut up for a while it seems. They can't wait to use this method any chance they get. “Do you mean…”

“Something you wear. Something so I can ride you,” Rex says then swallows. “If you want.” 

Maul’s eyes glance fleetingly to a corner of the room. One-Seven raises an eyebrow.

“Talk,” they order. Their spider scowls but his eyes betray… embarrassment? “What is it?”

He scrunches his nose and huffs. “I… may have what you desire,” he mumbles, refusing to look at them. “I wanted to…” He scowls and falls silent. One-Seven blinks.

“Did you practice sucking cock on a toy, spider?” they ask in a low mutter, turning his head so he must face them. “Is that what you're saying? You have a cock in here somewhere that you've been playing with?” Maul stays silent, eyes stubbornly looking anywhere but at their face. “Answer the questions.”

They receive a growl and feel him tense. “I do not have t—”

One-Seven yanks him sharply, their other hand going for his throat and they pull him closer. “You are not in charge,” they remind him in a whisper. “Or did you forget that?”

Maul swallows, eyes widening, and he shakes his head minutely. One-Seven scowls. “One,” their spider gasps out.

“You are not in charge,” they repeat harshly. “Say it.” When they receive no response, they press on the base of his horns, making him moan in surprise, and sneer, “say it.” He stays stubbornly silent. One-Seven tightens their hand around his throat; Maul stiffens and suppresses a whine. Rex strokes one horn with their thumb while One-Seven squeezes.

“I'm not in charge,” their spider gasps, his fingers twitching inside them. “I'm not in charge.”

One-Seven hums while Rex kisses his forehead softly. “Good,” they whisper, clenching around him and smiling when they feel him shiver. “Get the cock.”

Maul gets up reluctantly. He stares at them and doesn't say anything. They wait. He doesn't move.

“What's wrong?” Rex asks, breath shivering when his fingers pull out. “You don't want me to ride you?”

“I—” His jaw clenches. “It is in another room.”

They nod. Maul doesn't move; he looks at them with his hands twitching at his sides, his back rigid and his face impassive. Something is wrong. They just can't pinpoint out what exactly is wrong but they can tell.

“Spider,” One-Seven calls. Maul scowls and turns his head to the side. “I’ll still be here.”

“You cannot know this,” he mutters immediately, refusing to look at them.

“You could tie me up,” Rex jokes. Maul stiffens even more. His eyes slide to them and he laughs mirthlessly.

“Why would it work?” he says. “It didn’t, last time.”

Rex blinks.

_One,_ his spider whines, legs thrashing as One-Seven mouths where flesh ends and keratin begins; he nips sensitive skin and laughs victoriously when the spider cries out and three of his legs kick a chunk of metal next to them. _One,_ he gasps, a trembling hand curled around One-Seven’s cock. They move in rhythm; his spider lifts him up so One-Seven can straddle his waist and hold onto his neck, chuckling when he feels him push his horn insistently against his mouth. The spider likes it when he licks and nips and bites. If he brushes his lips against his spine then all six legs shiver. If he takes his earlobe in a flash of teeth then he receives a growl and is pulled flush against his chest. 

When he comes, he groans against his spider’s mouth. He bites his bottom lip harshly and holds him tightly, hands clawing at bony shoulders and arms they can encircle easily. He’s placed in the middle of their nest. _You do not leave,_ his spider sneers, hands tugging and trying to have him tangled up in fabrics. One-Seven smiles silently and lets him do it even though he knows it won’t stop him from waking up elsewhere.

“Rex?”

They shake their head and frown. Maul has—“Oh,” they rasp. Rex clears their throat. “That’s uh…” They raise a hand to their spider’s arm and try to encircle it. They laugh when they realize they can’t. “When did you leave?”

Maul looks at the toy in his hand and swallows. “Your eyes glaze and your mind is elsewhere when you remember,” he says. His eyes glance to their arm. “You are still here.”

Rex nods and whispers softly, “I am.”

_Why?_ One-Seven snarls when he can corner Cody away from prying eyes. The Marshal Commander stares at him with a hard face but he knows him. He sees the regret and the muted horror.

_He tried to kill a Jedi,_ Cody tells him, raising an arm when he starts protesting. _It was elaborate and almost flawless. No one would’ve guessed._

“I'm here,” Rex says. One-Seven pulls their spider down to settle on top of them and kisses him harshly. “Prep me so I can kriff you,” Rex whispers against shaking lips.

_One,_ his spider calls. He doesn’t respond but he pulls him closer and places an ear against his chest to hear the irregular rhythmic pattern of his heartbeats, silently staring at his crystal. It still sings.

_Fordo doesn’t recognize me anymore,_ he says after a long moment. He listens to his hearts, feels him growl against his cheek and his jaw clenches. He knows his spider has no idea what he's talking about. It's difficult for him to reconcile his two universes. There's home and there's duty. He doesn't think he can let go of either of them. _They gave him a new name._

“Can I ride you, spider?” Rex whispers in his ear. Maul shivers, crooking his fingers to have them breathe in cutoff sighs. He tugs softly at the head of their cock and squeezes right below.

“Oh, captain,” he replies with a low chuckle. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

One-Seven knows the rules. The life of a Jedi is worth thousands. _Who did this to you,_ he growls in his spider’s neck after another fit of panic. These days, the spider wails and cries out, missing legs that were taken from him, mourning a life that he lost when he ended up here to live like vermin. One-Seven’s hatred for those who hurt him grows and grows and grows—like a tumor that won't stop spreading itself out and will keep consuming him entirely. _Who did this to you,_ he demands harshly.

_Jedi,_ his spider spits. _He took them! He took them!_ One-Seven is pushed away and sees him crawl up where nothing can touch him; he hears the pained wails and can almost feel his mind being once again torn to shreds by haunting memories One-Seven has no power over. There’s nothing he can do about them, nothing he can do to soothe his mind when he is so lost within his own self that he forgets anything else.

_Who did this to you?_ he yells.

The spider laughs in despair. He drops back down cackling, crowds him until he is trapped between him and the wall, and he snarls _Kenobi._

Rex moans when they activate the mag base and secure Maul’s cock to his legs. “Lie down,” they whisper. They watch him comply with a satisfied smile and pry his lips open with their thumb, sighing when Maul opens his mouth without waiting for them to speak. Rex straddles his waist, curls their fingers around his cock and teases their entrance, sighing softly. They begin to sink down and close their eyes.

_With minds like yours the procedure tends to get harsher,_ the Marshal Commander explains calmly. One-Seven tried to kill Kenobi—but Cody really is different. He doesn’t look at the CC; he stares at the blinding lights and thinks about his spider. He knows he won’t go back. He wishes he could have spent more time with him. _Atrophy isn’t rare. At least you have muscles to spare._ Cody leans down and nods shortly. _I will take care of you, sir,_ he whispers roughly, his fingers brushing dyed curls like one would a pet. _Like you did with me._

“Maul,” Rex gasps when they feel him rock under them, hips grinding shamelessly. One-Seven curls a hand around his throat and squeezes in reward. Their spider’s eyes flutter almost shut for an instant and he takes their hips in hand and thrusts with more intent. Rex moans loudly, bouncing on his cock, jerking off in rhythm with his thrusts. They hear a responding whine and shush him quickly. “You’re being good,” they reward, smiling when they feel his throat vibrate under their palm.

They come with a shuddering sigh. Maul keeps thrusting into them the entire time, his hand making them moan and spill their release on his chest, marking him as theirs. They kiss him hungrily, claiming him as much as they can in a simple gesture and he lets them, his throat singing for their hand curled around it. It’s not the conclusion to a long run; it feels like a promise for many paths, an entire array of possibilities opening to them, for them and between them. Rex bites and claims while One-Seven discovers and maps. 

_Rex?_

He opens his eyes. He doesn’t know where he is. He looks around, panting heavily, sees shapes around him but cannot make his eyes focus. _Where am I,_ he growls. _Where am I._ He stiffens when he feels a hand curl on his shoulders. _It’s alright, sir,_ someone says next to him. _They’re all safe now._ He stills.

_Rex?_ he hears again. _Are you with me?_

He opens his eyes. He’s in medbay. There’s someone sitting besides his biobed. _Cody?_ he says. His brother smiles.

_You got us worried for a minute there, old boy,_ Cody says with a relieved smile. Rex scoffs. Something doesn't feel right but he doesn't say it.

“I understand now,” the captain says, lips forming a relieved smile. They kiss Maul’s eyelids and rest their forehead against his own.

“What,” their spider whispers. They look at his staff lying next to them silently. “One?”

One-Seven brushes a finger on the hilt, remembers the first time he approached the creature, the first time the spider replied to him with coherent words, the first time he gave him his name and the first time he realized his spider’s mind was slowly becoming whole again. Rex takes the staff in hand, remembers the first time he touched the creature, the first time he felt Maul curl around him and the first time they talked. He looks at their spider and he knows this is the first time he feels whole in his arms. And he knows it won’t be the last.

They lean down to kiss him and smile. “I understand now,” they say. “What you mean to me.”

  
Maul stares at them silently for a long moment. “What am I?” he asks. Rex kisses him softly while One-Seven pulls him closer, making him arch his back. “What do I mean to you?”  
  


They rest their forehead against his and close their eyes, taking a deep breath. They feel whole, finally, and know they don't need anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> tw: anxiety, cannibalism (sentient beings), canon-typical violence, extremely dubious consent, panic attacks, nonverbal character, sex pollen (actually caused by some kind of alien creature but same effect), uncomfortable relationship, unhealthy relationship. I think this is it but if I forgot something please tell me.
> 
> I would like to apologize to mr marshal commander cody. I keep writing him as.......ehhhhhhhhhh not,,,,,,,,a,,,Great,,,dude,,,,,,,I swear I actually love him with my whole heart (might be the problem, actually)


End file.
